


Of Frills and Wine

by Gwendolyn (storiesofchaos)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (sort of), Clothing Kink, First Time, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-24 12:43:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21338440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesofchaos/pseuds/Gwendolyn
Summary: “It doesn't help that Arthur's gaze fixes on him more and more often with the more he drinks, eyes casually slipping to him even as he laughs at a maiden's remark, the gaze searing and making Merlin's heart beat unnaturally faster.”In which Merlin thinks he looks ridiculous, Arthur disagrees, and they both drink a bit too much wine.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 268





	Of Frills and Wine

**Author's Note:**

> This probably isn't historically accurate (like the word 'fuck' wasn't used until the 15th century), but neither is the show sooo ...
> 
> Also, I've only watched the first season right now, so keep that in mind! I just couldn't stop myself from writing this lol

"I am  _ not  _ wearing that," Merlin says, eyes glued to the clothes Arthur's holding out. 

"You have to, Merlin, it's tradition," Arthur replies exasperatedly, but he can't contain his smirk. Merlin looks disdainfully at the unnecessarily ruffled cloak and jaunty hat, worse than the last one he was forced to wear. He'll look like a pompous servant to an even more arrogant lord, not at all like a humble servant from Ealdor. 

Arthur throws the clothes at him. "Get dressed, the feast starts at sundown and you still need to get me ready." 

\---

Back in his own room, Merlin puts on the freshly pressed linen tunic and nice wool trousers, along with the obnoxiously frilly cloak in royal red draped over his shoulders. He tries to arrange his hair so it's not too messy, and then puts the hat on top, feeling quite like a fool and too undeserving for this sort of garb. But apparently this is what's needed for the servants during this specific feast and celebrations. 

Gaius mentions how well he looks when he walks swiftly out of the door, trying not to garner much attention to himself, and he just grunts noncommittally in reply. 

Merlin walks into Arthur's chambers expecting him to immediately laugh at how ridiculous he looks, but instead he's silent, taking in the sight of him for a long moment. Merlin shifts uncomfortably. "Well, don't keep me waiting, let's get the inevitable over with. I look even more of an idiot than usual, right?"

"You actually look goo— well, that is to say," Arthur stammers, and he  _ never  _ does that, not at least around Merlin, and oh gods is that a  _ blush _ that's creeping up Arthur's cheeks? "You look better than your normal self. More like your position as a servant of the royal household," he finishes lamely and without his usual snark, and instead turns and lifts his arms in an obvious way of saying he's ready to be prepared for the feast. 

They're quiet throughout the process as Merlin loses himself in the familiar routine. It isn't until they're about to leave does Arthur say, "Oh, you need a sword on you."

"Um, why?"

"Another custom, though I don't agree with it because I wouldn't trust you with a sword around so many people with your clumsiness and the inevitable disaster that follows in your wake." Merlin ignores the subtle insult like it's second nature. 

"But I don't have a sword." Arthur sighs dramatically. 

"Of course you don't. If I must sacrifice it, use this one." He takes a decorative sword from the wall and immediately starts to attach it to Merlin's belt. When Merlin looks curiously at him, Arthur avoids his eyes and shrugs. "You looked helpless." But his hands linger for just the tiniest moment on Merlin's hips, and the touch feels like it's branding into his skin. 

\---

Okay, so maybe they both went a little too heavy on the wine. But Arthur kept demanding his goblet to be refilled and Merlin had tried to keep the creeping thoughts of Arthur and his hands out of his heads by downing some cups too. But it's only worsened the influx of feelings, and things he's only thought about in the very depths of his fantasies flit through his head now. 

It doesn't help that Arthur's gaze fixes on him more and more often with the more he drinks, eyes casually slipping to him even as he laughs at a maiden's remark, the gaze searing and making Merlin's heart beat unnaturally faster. 

He won't deny this is nothing new, he's contemplated for a while on how nice Arthur's body looks, how his rare true smiles directed towards him makes his heart flutter ridiculously, how they get a little too close when dressing or fighting, all the barely concealed compliments plastered with vague insults. But it's just getting unbearable now, and entirely indecent. 

Arthur proceeds to get more and more flushed and louder and louder, the maidens start giggling and Gwen raises her eyebrows at Merlin, trying to stifle a laugh. In the end the king has to mutter in Merlin's ear to take Arthur to his chambers immediately so that he doesn't embarrass himself and the kingdom any further. Arthur agrees to this surprisingly well, sauntering out of the hall and laughing, though if he stumbles a bit then no one is the wiser. 

Once they reach the silent, dark room, Merlin can finally breathe a sigh of relief because he had felt stifling in the hall. He tears off his hat and lights a few candles. Arthur has suddenly gone quiet once they stepped into the room, and when Merlin turns he is closer than he expects. It's almost too much to handle to have those smoldering eyes solely focused on him, flickering in the warm glow of the firelight. 

"Sh—shall I get you changed, sire?" Merlin asks, trying to smile and act like he isn't going to melt into the floor any moment now. Arthur just nods. Merlin feels like he's in a haze, whether from the alcohol or the warmth of his outfit or his closeness to Arthur he doesn't know. He strips him of his sword and light mail and outer tunic, only fumbling a little bit along the way. Arthur doesn't stray from watching his every move, like he's entranced by Merlin, which is silly. 

But it doesn't feel silly when he moves his hand to undo the heavy belt and feels the protruding stiffness right below it. He curiously presses a hand gently to it, and Arthur gives a low groan. Time seems suspended for a moment in which Merlin realizes he could walk away from this and be a good, morally right servant, or give into his desires and what they both apparently want. 

He chooses the latter, whatever Gaius and Uther and his future self might say. 

(His feeble reasoning is that perhaps the dragon will be pleased and that this will help with his destiny or whatever.)

Somehow amid this, Merlin ends up on his knees, staring at Arthur's crotch. When he looks up, Arthur's hands are clenched tightly and his eyes are wide, looking almost innocent and truly desperate. As if in slow motion or watching from outside of his body, Merlin notices himself undoing the laces of Arthur's trousers. 

" _ Merlin—"  _ Arthur says quickly, biting his lip hard. And then Merlin is reaching searching fingers into the trousers and Arthur's strong thighs gently shake, one hand finding its way to Merlin's hair. Merlin gently pulls out Arthur's cock, looking at it a bit wonderingly. "Gods, please  _ do  _ something, Merlin," Arthur bites out, and his voice already sounds so ruined that it thrills Merlin to the core. 

He looks at the cock in front of him almost contemplatively, before ducking his head and giving the tip a tentative lick. Arthur's hand tightens in his hair. Merlin doesn't have much idea of what he's doing beyond the whispers and jokes he heard back home, but it doesn't seem like Arthur has much more of an idea either. So he acts purely on instinct and closes his mouth around the head, sucking lightly. Arthur makes a strangled noise, hand trembling in Merlin's hair. 

The taste is odd, but he's tasted much worse, and anyways, the effect it's having on the prince is so worth it. He continues, taking more into his mouth. He hears Arthur's heavy breathing in the silence around then but for the faint sound of merrymaking from the hall, feels the floor beneath his knees and the throbbing of his own cock in his pants. He's never felt everything so  _ intensely _ , and the only thing he can compare it to is when he's doing a particularly powerful spell. 

Arthur can't seem to contain himself much longer because he gives a few sudden jerks of his hips, and stars flash a bit before Merlin's eyes, but of course he's stubborn and keeps going. Some ridiculous part of his brain tells himself he'd never thought he might die from choking on cock, the crown prince's no less, but he has to admit that that would be one hell of a way to go. 

"Sorry," Arthur says breathlessly, slowing down a bit, but Merlin just hums. "Fuck, c'mere," Arthur says and he pulls Merlin to his feet. They both stumble against each other, and Merlin laughs a little, albeit a bit hoarsely. When he stops he realizes he's inches away from Arthur's face, which is flushed, lips stained with wine and eyes darkened, and so goddamn gorgeous. His hands are fisted in Merlin's cloak, and he looks wild, desperate. "This  _ stupid _ cloak, it makes you look so . . . princely." And Merlin could laugh at how ridiculous that sounds, but right now the alcohol and his desire is thrumming through him and then Arthur is  _ kissing  _ him and he feels like he might just be swept away with it all. 

It's fumbling and messy but they don't care, tasting wine and cock and a hint of coppery blood from accidental bites on lips. Merlin's hands wander daringly under Arthur's undershirt, where he knows there are toned muscles and pale skin. Arthur groans and then Merlin is squeezing desperately onto his hips when Arthur hurriedly opens Merlin's trousers. 

And then Merlin breaks the kiss and cries out when Arthur first touches him, burying his face in the juncture between Arthur's shoulder and neck. Arthur takes them both in his hand, the other wandering all over Merlin, and Merlin knows he's not going to last long. They breathe the same air, panting, and Arthur ups the pace, the slick sliding noise amplified. He's right there, right to where he needs, and then Arthur tilts Merlin's head up and murmurs, "so beautiful," almost as if to himself, and then Merlin's coming, intensely and blissfully, and Arthur follows right after him. 

Feeling hazy and sleepy in the afterglow, they wilt against each other. Like as if in a dream Merlin picks up Arthur's hand and licks the cum off of it. "Not bad," he remarks. Arthur's eyes glint. 

"You are utterly filthy, Merlin," he says, but his voice is fond. 

\---

Merlin wakes to what he calls Arthur's, 'don't talk to me I'm being a prat' voice complaining about the sunlight streaming in through the curtains, and he can't help but smile at the familiarity. His head is pounding yet he feels comfortable; he's toasty warm and there's a comfortable weight next to him. 

But then reality sinks in and he immediately sits up, remembering where he is. His head swims and he groans, but he feels utterly wretched for another reason than just the aftermath of too much wine. He should probably get ready for his inevitable beheading, and he laughs to himself bitterly. 

When his world finally stops spinning, he cautiously opens his eyes because he can hear Arthur saying his name. It's morning and they're both just wearing their base layers, and their clothes are spread throughout the room where they left them before collapsing into bed last night. Arthur is sprawled out next to him in the bed, scowling. "Merlin, fetch me something to get rid of the throbbing in my head, pick up my clothes from last night because you left them all over the floor, and you need to give me a kiss." He's pouting insolently and Merlin's heart leaps, before happily kissing him into the pillows. 

After all, it  _ was  _ his sire's command. 


End file.
